


Elysia

by Maple



Category: Highlander: The Series
Genre: Dragons, Gen, Historical Inaccuracy, Quote Challenge
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-06-06
Updated: 2011-06-06
Packaged: 2017-10-20 04:41:29
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,031
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/208844
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Maple/pseuds/Maple
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Methos is asked to slay a dragon. Things change when he actually finds a real one.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Elysia

**Author's Note:**

> Written for a quote challenge, but the only thing used for the story from the quote was the word "dragon", so not really a true quote challenge response.

“What sort of beast is it that you want slain?”

“A big one. A horrible dragon!” exclaimed Mug the farmer. “It’s been eating children and virgins!”

Methos considered that. “And why me, exactly?

“You’ve got a sword.”

“So do a lot of people.”

“And you’re very skilled with it.”

“Possibly.”

“And if you do, I would talk to my brother Hob about his daughter, Emera, for you.”

“That’s a good reason.” Methos sighed. He wouldn’t have stayed in this filthy, tiny, lice-infested village except for the fact that Emera was not any of the previous. He was besotted with her. She was young and fair. Ample where she should be ample and fine where she should be fine. Normally he’d have been over the hills and far away, but just the lingering scent of Emera in a room was enough to make a man lose his senses. And Methos was not the only one who was vying for her attentions. “Fine, then, I’ll do it.”

“We’ll revere you as a hero!”

“As a hero with Emera at his side,” Methos reminded.

“Of course!”

“Deal. Now, which way is the dragon?”

Mug gave excellent directions and Methos set off on his way.. The dragon had been last seen skulking around over past Hob’s outer fields where the caverns were. It was the obvious place for a dragon to set up house.

Methos did not think for a moment there was a dragon. For the first thing, dragons–real ones--were exceeding rare. Secondly, any dragon worth half its salt would not be anywhere near this squalid little village. He fully expected it to be a deranged something-large-and-furry. Maybe even a deranged something-small-and-furry. Scary things always seemed larger than they actually were.

So, when he found the caverns that were past Hob’s outer fields, Methos could not have been more surprised.

It was a dragon.

A beautiful, glorious, sleeping dragon.

She was mostly that clear crystal frosted white color of the arctic dragons, but she had bright peacock blue and green plumage about her head and on the very tuft of her tail, which was curled around her as she slept.

Methos was loathe to wake her up, but he didn’t want the villagers to grow bold and come up behind to see how he was doing. Eventually they’d want to know if he’d been eaten or just run away, or what had finally become of him.

“Excuse me, beautiful lady, would you have a moment to talk?” he called out, and stood a respectful distance away.

The dragon opened an eye. She stared straight at Methos. “You’re different,” she said.

“At least from these villagers,” Methos acceded.

The dragon eyed the scabbard with its undrawn sword. “Not here to try and kill me?”

“No,” Methos declared. “Though I’d been sent to. I thought it was just an ox gone wild, not a real dragon. How did you come to be here?”

“It was just an error on my part. I had a cold, you see. It stuffed up my nose.” She breathed a lick of flame to show her cold was gone. “And I was tired, so I flew down to take a nap. But by the time I recovered it was late in the season and there was no food. It takes a lot of energy to fly, you know. I’ll leave in the spring, when there’s more to eat.”

“That’ll be too late,” Methos said. “The villagers are aware of you now. If not me, they’ll just send someone else. Ah…you mentioned food. If you will forgive my rudeness, what sort of food do you require? You aren’t like any dragon I’ve ever seen before.”

“Mostly fruits and vegetables, and some fish,” she replied graciously. “If there’s nothing else, I’ll eat a goat or a sheep, but I don’t prefer the taste of them. My mother is from the rainforest and my father from the ice mountains.” She opened her mouth wide in a grin, though it looked to Methos more like a toothed cavern. “You see, I inherited both their colorings. And mother’s appetite.” With an indignant huff of smoke, she finished by saying, “And I certainly haven’t eaten any of those humans. I imagine they’d be most wretched tasting.”

“I think you’d be right,” Methos agreed. Then he spent a few moments considering the situation. All thoughts of Emera had quickly been doused with water–she no longer seemed to be quite as delectable. And other, equally beautiful women could be found elsewhere in the world.

“I would help you,” Methos told the dragon, “if you would help me in return. I was traveling south already. It would be a great honor if you would take me with you.”

The dragon reared back, but then she leaned forward again, with her eyes narrowed. “It would be a deal, if you could get me out of here sooner than spring. Though I will only consent to carry you in my claws.”

It was more than Methos could have hoped for. No one–and that meant no one–ever was favored enough to ride a dragon. It was too ignoble for them. But he would be relatively safe traveling in her grasp. “I agree.” Methos dug around and pulled from his satchel a large bag of dried fruits. He tossed it toward the dragon. “As a show of faith,” he said. “Eat that, and I’ll be back very soon.”

Methos jingled his bag of gold as he walked. He supposed in the fairytales that there would have been some derring-do at this point. He imagined a night raid and houses on fire, and people in the streets running left and right. But he was more prosaic than that.

It only required a bit of capital. In the end, the village would be a little richer, since he’d buy up every darned piece of fruit or vegetable for sale, and his pockets would be lighter–which was better for flying in any case–and the dragon would be a lot safer. Methos, of course, would get to do something he’d dreamed of nearly his entire life. He’d get to fly.


End file.
